


The Angel of Notre Dame

by thefiresfromheaven



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Happy Ending, Human Gabriel, Hunter Dean, Implied Gabriel/Sam Winchester, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 03:24:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13538661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefiresfromheaven/pseuds/thefiresfromheaven
Summary: "Sometimes, Castiel wishes he had the courage to disobey his master."A Hunchback of Notre Dame AU wherein Castiel has been kept hidden in the church for his whole life, but all he really wants is to go out and experience one day of normal life. Luckily for him, this year's Festival of Fools may be the perfect opportunity to do just that...





	The Angel of Notre Dame

Sometimes, Castiel wishes he had the courage to disobey his master.

  
After all, it's not like Frollo is particularly strong or brave. Nor is he very fast, and he certainly can't fly like Castiel can. Castiel knows that, if he just tried once, he could be free of his master.

  
But then again...

  
Castiel sighs as he peers out of the large window in his workshop, down at the square that is beginning to fill with people coming to celebrate the annual Festival of Fools.

  
"It's foolish," he murmurs, his voice sounding gruff and uncouth to his ears, not unlike the voices of the three stone angels who have kept him company since he was a tiny child. It had taken him several months to get them to talk to him, but it was from them that he learned how to fly. Not that he does it very often. His master finds it unseemly.

  
"What's foolish?" One of the angels comes up behind him and he can feel the press of cool stone against his shoulder. Castiel knows that it is Balthazar from the way that the stone creature leans easily up against him. Neither Samandriel nor Gadreel are so openly affectionate of him.

  
"Nothing, I just-" Castiel sighs again, knowing it’s pointless to lie to the stone angel. He always guesses what's wrong anyways. "I just was wishing that I could go to the festival this year," he finishes quietly and Balthazar huffs. There isn't actually any breath that comes from the living statue's mouth, but Castiel knows the sound, since it’s something he does often.

  
"Well why don't you then, huh? It's not like Frollo would ever know." Castiel turns quickly to face his friend, eyes wide and wings flaring out in surprise. Balthazar watches him, arms crossed over his cold stone chest, smirking.

  
Balthazar, Samandriel, and Gadreel all look different than your average stone angel. Castiel often thinks that the artist who carved them had a sense of humor. Each looks almost like a normal man, except, of course, for the large stone wings tucked against their backs; the main problem with this is that no sane angel would want to look like a normal man. Balthazar says he was carved with a grin on his lips. Samandriel has a strange hat on, with a brim that shades only his eyes. Gadreel has an almost perpetual scowl. Also, all three have the name 'Chuck' inscribed somewhere on them.

  
Yes, Castiel likes to think that their creator, that this 'Chuck', had a sense of humor.

  
Castiel shakes his head a little to clear it, then glares at Balthazar. "Don't be ridiculous. Of course he would know. And I wouldn't disobey my master, anyhow."  
Balthazar gives him a sassy look, which is definitely one of the weirdest things Castiel has seen because when Balthazar tries to change his expression from its usual stone smirk it usually ends up looking like he's constipated. Castiel tries very hard not to laugh or crack a smile or anything because that usually ends up with Balthazar miffed at him for the rest of the day.

  
“It's just out of the question," he says after he takes a deep breath to calm himself. "Anyways, Balthy, how would I hide my wings?"

  
"That's the beauty of this year's festival! You don't have to!"

  
"What's special about it this year?" he asks, curiosity getting the best of him. Balthazar grins and opens his mouth, but the voice that answers isn't his, its Samandriel's.

  
"The theme is angels this year," he supplies in a gentle tone, touching the edge of his strange cap. "Everyone is coming wearing false wings, or with capes on their backs. No one would be able to tell the difference. They'd probably just think that yours are very expensive and well made." Castiel blinks at him because usually Samandriel is the most cautious of the trio and he never encourages him to leave the tower.

  
"You really think I should go?" he asks warily. Balthazar huffs and mutters something about being under appreciated, but Castiel ignores him for the time being.  
Samandriel nods his stone head as well as he can, and his lips creak and shift into a fairly accurate approximation of a smile. Castiel has long ago learned to interpret the different expressions of his stone companions. "I really do think you should, Castiel. You're nineteen, you should live a little. Go down there, have fun, maybe meet a nice boy?"

  
Castiel blushes deeply and ducks his head. His friends have known about his preferences for a long time, but he's still ashamed. After all, he was raised to be a good Christian boy by a good Christian man- his master, Frollo- and he should not like boys. He knows he shouldn't. Unfortunately, he still does.  
"That's not-" he stutters, waving his hands, his wings puffing up in agitation. "Samandriel its not- I don't-" Balthazar is laughing at him, though it isn't a hurtful laugh, just amused and full of fun, like Balthazar always is. Samandriel grins and pats his shoulder gently, leaving his shirt a bit dusty.  
"Think about it, okay? You-"

  
Footsteps echo up the stairwell that leads up to Castiel's tower home and he knows that step very well. His master is coming. Balthazar instantly stops laughing and the two angels dart away, with surprising speed for stone creatures, going to stand in their niches and freezing in place. "Castiel?" His master calls as he ascends the last few stairs. "Come here, boy."

Castiel darts forward obediently. "I'm here, master!"

  
"Yes, I can see that, boy," he says drily. "Now. It's time for your lesson."

~.~.~.~.~.~.~

“I’m going to do it,” Castiel announces as soon as his master is out of hearing range. His companions come bounding out of their customary niches, incredulity and excitement on their stone faces.

  
“Are you really?” Balthazar demands, taking him by the shoulders and shaking him a little. “Really!”

  
“Really,” Castiel says seriously. “My master… he wants to keep me locked up here forever, but he also wants me to be happy. And I… I say that if I can have just one day down there with all the normal people, then I can be happy with staying up here forever.”

  
“Sounds logical,” Balthazar declares, his eyes twinkling as much as a stone angels eyes can twinkle. “Yes, sounds very logical.”

  
“Will you fly down?” Gadreel asks in a voice like gravel, leaning over the edge and looking down. Gadreel speaks the least of the trio and his voice still doesn’t seem to have mellowed out from its original roughness.

  
“That was the plan,” Castiel admits, going to stand beside him and peer over the edge. “Do you think I can make it?”

  
Gadreel snorts and claps him on the shoulder. “Of course you can. We taught you to fly and we taught you well. Now it’s time to really use those wings.”

  
“We all wish you the best of luck,” Samandriel says fondly, gingerly patting the top of Castiel’s head. “Now go on, you.”

  
“Y-you think I should go now?” he whispers, eying them skeptically. He’d secretly been hoping that they would somehow delay his flight, would perhaps distract him or need him to do something before he left.

 

“No time like the present,” Balthazar chuckles. “Go. Before I push you over the edge and make you fly, like we did when you were a fledgling.”

  
Castiel takes his threat very seriously because he knows that the angel will most definitely push him. He waves a quick goodbye to his friends and scrambles over to the outcrop of stone that he has always used to take flight from. Peering down at the ground below, he feels afraid of flying for the first time in years, but this is not the time to be afraid. This is the time to act.

  
He jumps and spreads his wings.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The festival is _beautiful _.__

  
Every corner of the square is filled with brightly colored ribbons and lovely flowers that scent the afternoon air with a heavenly fragrance. The crowds of people are all laughing and having a good time, hanging off one another’s arms and chattering excitedly about the various events and booths that are involved in this year’s fair. There is something unique and fascinating around every corner and Castiel is absolutely enchanted by everything he sees. He feels very comfortable down here, far more so than he ever thought he would. Perhaps it’s because every other person he sees bears wings not unlike his own, some so well made that he has to squint and study them for a moment to be sure that they aren’t real. Sometimes the only sure tell is that the wings never move, simply hanging stiffly against their bearer’s back.

  
After only an hour on the ground he has already decided that his favorite part of the festival is most definitely the little puppet shows put on by the gypsies. True, the shows are meant for small children, but the tiny puppets remind him of the wooden figurines he makes in his spare time. Each puppet represents a person, often a real life figure, either historical or fantastical, and each has its own unique personality.

  
He’s not nearly as fond of the gypsies themselves. His master has always taught him that gypsies are evil, sinful people. He has often remarked that many of the foul creatures even sleep with their people of their own sex, shuddering at the very thought, and Castiel always experiences a deep burn of shame whenever he mentions it, as well as a fortification in his own mind against ever letting Frollo knows how he feels about other boys.

  
Walking away from the latest puppet show, Castiel starts to consider that it may be time to head back. The sun is just disappearing behind the highest tower of the church that has been his home since he was a babe, and he doesn’t want to risk the possibility of his master returning while he is gone.

  
Still… he knows that Frollo is required to oversee the performances at the end of the festival. That means that he should be occupied for another few hours, doesn’t it?

  
Before Castiel has time to make a decision, he catches the familiar cadence of his master’s voice over the hubbub of the surrounding crowd. He glances quickly around and easily sees the man over the crowd, sitting high up on a huge horse and slowly surveying all the people nearby with a disdainful look on his face. Panic rises in his chest because he is sure that Frollo will see him, knows that if he does, his master will recognize him in an instant. He stumbles backwards, glancing around frantically to try and find a way out. He is in the middle of a temporary street, outlined by the tents and booths of the visiting gypsies, and there is nowhere to run without drawing attention to himself. His master’s gaze has almost reached him, and he is preparing himself for a great and painful punishment when suddenly he is being pulled off of the street and through the flaps of one of the tents.

  
He falls to the ground with a grunt, his wings automatically flaring out to balance his body and prevent him from falling even harder. He realizes his mistake an instant later and looks up quickly at his rescuer, excuses and explanations on the tip of his tongue.

  
They all die away the instant he sees the man who rescued him, his mouth going dry. The gypsy is the loveliest creature he has ever seen. He is crouched beside Castiel, balancing on the balls of his feet with his forearms draped over his thighs. His hands, which dangle between his legs, are strong and calloused, like he works with them often, and Castiel fights the urge to reach out and touch his palms, just to see what they would feel like. Instead, he lets his gaze slowly travel up to take in more of the lovely man. His chest is bare and well-muscled and if Castiel’s mouth wasn’t already bone dry, then it would be now. His collarbones are well-defined, giving way to a strong, supple neck. And then… his face.

  
The gypsy has small laugh lines etched around his generous mouth and his bright green eyes seem to sparkle with mischief and good humor. A light dusting of freckles cover his cheekbones, drawing even more attention to those marvelous eyes of his. His hair is noteworthy too, because it looks softer than any silk Castiel has ever had the privilege of touching. The gypsy notices Castiel looking, of course, and flashes a wide smile at him, laugh lines stretching and teeth flashing brightly.

  
“You okay, _angioletto?”_ Castiel suppresses a shudder. Not only is the man physically beautiful, but his voice is beautiful as well, deep and rich, and just the tiniest bit raspy. He has a heavy accent, something exotic, maybe…

  
“Italian?” Castiel mentally scolds himself. Of course, those are his first words to the beautiful gypsy. Now he’ll think he’s a fool. But the gypsy just throws back his head and laughs deeply for a moment before nodding his head, still smiling widely.

  
“ _Sì, angioletto_. Do you know it?”

  
Castiel shakes his head silently, staring at the man still. “What did you call me?”

  
_“Angioletto?”_ His smiles changes and grows warm. “It means ‘little angel’ in my language. Though if you prefer that I call you something else, you should tell me your name.”

  
“C-Castiel,” he stutters. “Why- why are you calling me angel?”

  
“I'm Dean,” the gypsy introduces himself, touching his chest right over his heart. “And I call you that because of these.” He reaches out and lightly taps the top of Castiel’s wing.

  
Again, he can’t help himself. It’s only a reflex for his wing to twitch when it’s touched, especially somewhere as sensitive as where Dean touched it. Dean simply smiles and pushes himself to his feet.

  
“Don’t be afraid,” he encourages, offering his hand to Castiel. “My brother’s fiancée is like you. That's how I knew what you were. I've seen you around the festival today. It's a good day for you to be out and about, hm?”

  
Castiel decides that he doesn’t have much else to do, so he takes the proffered hand and hauls himself to his feet. “Yes,” he says cautiously. “It’s very nice. I-I haven’t been out of my tower before so it is a real treat for me.”

  
Dean’s smile disappears into a little frown and its absence makes Castiel’s chest ache a little. “You live in a tower?”

  
“Yes,” he says, ducking his head shyly, his wings fluttering forward to cover his shoulders in a shy gesture. It feels very nice to be able to stretch them after so long folded up and kept perfectly still. “In the bell tower of Notre Dame.”

  
“You should be free,” Dean mutters with a shake of his head. He sighs heavily before he moves across the tent and starts to sort through a wooden box that seems to hold a wide variety of objects. As he moves, Castiel catches a whiff of his natural scent, rich with oils and forest smells that he only recognizes because of the plants that are sometimes brought into the cathedral in the springtime. It is a lovely smell on Dean.

  
“Thank you for bringing me in here, by the way,” Castiel says quietly, after several moments of silence between them. “My master almost saw me and he would be very unhappy if he knew that I was out of my tower.”

  
“The old man is your ‘master?’” Dean snorts, turning to look at him as he twists a filmy scarf around his wrist and another around his waist.

  
“He has taken care of me ever since I was a babe,” Castiel confirms, his tongue feeling thick and heavy in his mouth. Dean is so lovely. “He- he is all the family that I have, since mine abandoned me when I was born.”

  
“Oh, that can't be true.” Dean shakes his head, looking irritated. “You're lovely. No one would ever abandon you.”

  
Castiel flushes. “You… you think I’m lovely?”

  
Dean’s lips twist in a small smile. “Yes,” he declares firmly. “Quite lovely. Your body _and_ your wings. You would make a wonderful dancer.”

  
“Dancer?” Castiel is confused, until he suddenly realizes that that is what Dean must be. It should have been obvious, from his scanty way of dressing and his mouth watering physic. His blush deepens. “Ah. No, I-I do not think I would be.”

  
Dean smirks wickedly. “You most certainly would be.” He steps forward and starts circling Castiel, his pretty eyes raking over his body. “Oh yes. Most definitely. You should come watch me dance, learn some steps. Maybe then you could escape your master and come with me and my family.”

  
Castiel starts with surprise. Leave his master? He could never do that! Why, Frollo would be… he would be…

  
He wouldn’t care. In fact, he might be glad to be rid of the abomination that is Castiel. There is no one else to miss him, and Dean sounds as though he actually likes him. Castiel likes to think that he is rather good at telling when someone is lying to him, when someone genuinely likes him or thinks that he is a monster. Dean doesn’t seem to think that he is a monster.

  
“What do you say, Castiel?” Dean leans against his shoulder in a friendly manner, gazing into his eyes. “Would you like to get away from your master?”

  
“I…”

  
There is Balthazar, Gadreel, and Samandriel to consider, of course. They’ve been with him for years and years and he cannot just abandon them. On the other hand, he knows that they would want him to accept.

  
“I will think about it,” he whispers.

  
Dean’s smile returns in it’s full glory and he pats his cheek gently. “Excellent! You should come watch me dance, while you do. I dance beautifully, or so I'm told. I'm supposed to be on in a few minutes. Come!” He wraps his calloused fingers around Castiel’s wrist and pulls him out of the tent before he can protest, dragging him towards the center of the square.

  
When they near the central platform where people are beginning to get ready to begin their end of festival performances, Dean lets go of him. He whispers in his ear that he will see him in a few moments and disappears into the crowd, leaving Castiel to blend in as best he can and hope that Frollo doesn’t recognize him.  
His master is sitting, reclined in state, at the head of the platform, already looking bored even though the performances haven’t started yet.  
Minutes pass, and suddenly a man is onstage, speaking in an accent similar to Dean’s about the performances and how wonderful the festival has been. Castiel doesn’t pay much attention, instead focusing on trying to see where Dean is.

  
“Let us welcome the loveliest dancer in all of Europe!” the man says suddenly, making a strange motion with his hand before stepping aside as a cloud of smoke rises from the stage floor. When the smoke clears, Dean stands in the middle of the stage, a small smirk gracing his lovely features. Ripples of sound, both awestruck and confused, travel through the crowd, and Castiel notices Frollo sitting up and paying more attention. Mysterious, exotic-sounding music strikes up from somewhere and Castiel watches in awe as Dean begins to sway and twist to the sounds, using the scarves he has wound around his wrist and waist to emphasize the seductiveness of his movements, the swing of his hips. He pushes his way closer towards the stage, careful to keep his wings tucked tightly against his back so that he does not catch any attention. He makes it all the way to the very edge, where he can watch Dean with a simple tilt of his head, catching every movement he makes. The enchanting man catches sight of him and sidles closer in his dance, flicking one of his scarves out to brush against Castiel’s cheek, causing his face to burn hot. The people around him laugh and Dean flashes him a cheeky smile before moving off towards center stage again and beginning his dance anew. Castiel’s eyes follow him, a shy smile playing over his lips.

  
His smile quickly drops when he sees that Frollo has seen him. The cold glint in his eyes cannot mean good things for Castiel and he feels the shy heat in his face vanish and be replaced by a cold feeling. He backs away slowly, trying to blend in with the crowd again, but they keep jostling him and one man steps on the tail end of his wing, making him whimper in pain as several sensitive feathers are pulled loose. The crowd around him seems to be roaring, screaming, and suddenly it is as if everyone is pushing towards the stage when he just needs to get out of here.

  
He manages two steps back, then three, heart pounding in his chest and lungs aching with fear. His master is surely going to kill him now, he knows it. And now he’ll never get to fly again, never get to have long talks with Samandriel under the stars, and he’ll never get to even consider Dean’s offer of freedom.  
Castiel panics. As soon as he has enough room to allow his wings to spread, they snap out to their full width and, with a few harsh beats, he is lifting off the ground. People scream, and some fall to their knees, beginning to pray fervently for forgiveness. Castiel ignores them and, with a few more beats of his wings, he is soaring high over the crowded square, angling towards his beloved bell tower. Panic builds up in his chest with every breath. Maybe Frollo will forgive him, if he returns quickly enough and promises never to leave again, or begs for mercy. He thinks his master would like begging.

  
“Cas, how did it go?”

  
Balthazar greets him as soon as he lands on the parapet, tumbling down in a panting heap of feathers and old clothes. The other two stone angels wander over, making similar inquires, but Castiel cannot answer them because he is crying. Harsh, dry sobs rip through his body, tearing the breath away from his lungs and making his wings droop in exhaustion and defeat. Samandriel immediately hushes the others and puts a cold stone hand on his shoulder.

  
“Castiel?” he says gently. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?”

  
He takes a shuddering breath. Now there are real tears, dripping down his skin and splashing on the stones of the tower. “Frollo,” he croaks despairingly. “He saw me. He’s going to kill me.”

  
“He wouldn’t dare,” Gadreel growls, cracking the stone knuckles of one hand against the palm of the other. “You live here in sanctuary! He cannot kill you!”

  
“He'll kill me,” Castiel sobs, curling up in a tight ball against the short stone wall at the edge of the tower.

  
“No!” Suddenly Balthazar is gripping him tightly by the shoulders, much too tightly. “No! We won’t let him! We’ll fight back- you’ll fight back!”

  
“Balthazar!” Samandriel says firmly, pushing him aside. “You’re going to hurt him.”

  
The three angels starts arguing but Castiel quickly loses track of their words, losing himself in panic. The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that there is no way that Frollo will let him live, not after this. Not only did he disobey him by leaving the tower, but he also showed himself, in all of his winged monstrosity, to the entire city. He knows that that is unacceptable. He whimpers and curls more tightly into himself, waiting for the end.

  
And then, suddenly, Samandriel is beside him and Gadreel and Balthazar are standing close by while Samandriel wraps his cold arms around Castiel’s shoulders and tells him to breathe, to concentrate on his voice and just breathe. Castiel doesn’t quite understand what he's doing, but he trusts him and so he does as he asks, breathing deeply and listening to Samandriel as he murmurs quietly to him.

  
“There,” the stone angel says after a what feels like a very long time. “You feel better?”

  
“Yes?” Castiel isn’t sure why he’s asking, or why he would feel bad in the first place, but he actually does feel better, a little calmer. “What… what just...”

  
“You were panicking,” Balthazar offers and his tone is softer than Castiel has ever heard it. “I’m sorry if I freaked you out. I really didn’t mean to. I just want you to be safe.”

  
“Frollo is going to kill me,” he mumbles, hiding his face in his hands. Samandriel rubs one hard hand over his back.

  
“Perhaps-“ Samandriel begins, but he is cut off by the sound of feet pounding up the stairs to the bell tower. Castiel swallows around a tongue as dry and heavy as those of his stone companions and stands shakily.

  
“He’s coming.”

  
“No,” Gadreel murmurs, staring at the entrance. “No, those are not his footsteps. These are… different.”

  
Castiel tilts his head towards the angel, confusion playing across his face. “Different? But- but no one else ever comes here but him.”

  
“It might be soldiers,” Balthazar says grimly, taking up a stance beside Gadreel, who is still focusing on the stairs. They wait silently and Castiel tries not to panic again. He knows that this is the end for him but he doesn’t want to go out crying. He will go with dignity and-

  
_“Angioletto?_ Are you up here?”

  
“Dean?” Castiel finds himself gaping at the stairwell as Dean appears, looking slightly winded, cheeks flushed a lovely pink color.

  
“Hello, Castiel.” Dean grins at him, even as he leans over his knees and pants for breath. “You left so suddenly. I hope I didn't scare you off?” Castiel blinks at him in confusion. Of course Dean didn't frighten him, why would he think that?

  
“Who is this, Cassie?” Balthazar asks tersely, and Castiel realizes that he never got the chance to tell them about Dean, between the panic attack and Dean's own sudden arrival. Before he can answer his friend, Dean steps forward and proffers his hand.

  
“Dean of troupe Winchester. I trust you have heard of us?”

  
Balthazar stares at Dean with what Castiel can only describe as awe, and he's sure that a similar expression is on own his face. Exactly two other people have ever seen the three angels when they are animate in the time that he has known them, and both other people had panicked and insisted that the tower was haunted and that he himself was a creature of the devil. Dean, on the other hand, seems perfectly at ease. He is looking expectantly at Balthazar, still holding his hand out to be clasped. Samandriel clears his throat and Balthazar shakes himself a little before grasping Dean's hand firmly.

  
“Winchester. Yeah, I've heard of you guys. You're kinda famous. Uh, what are you doing here?”

  
“We...” Dean glances at Castiel and gives him a warm smile. “We heard that there was, supposedly, an angel in the bell towers of this church, held captive by a cruel master. It seems the rumors were true.”

  
“There are rumors about me?” Castiel asks, a frown stretching at his mouth. Dean nods and releases Balthazar's hand to move over to him.

  
“They say that your master kidnapped you when you were a babe, _angioletto,”_ he says softly, taking one of his hands between both of his own. “The rumors say that your family was devastated, that they searched and searched for years but never found you.”

  
Castiel swallows hard and looks away. “No… no one ever looked for me, Dean. I have no family.”

  
“You have us,” Samandriel says gently and he nods.

  
“Yes, besides you, I meant.”

  
Dean shakes his head. “Listen, Castiel. My troupe- my family- they are down in the square, right now, distracting your… master.” He says 'master' with such distaste in his voice that Castiel almost feels his disgust as his own.

  
“Now is your chance,” Dean continues, squeezing his hand lightly. “Come with us. Join my family. I told you, my brother's fiancee is like you. You wouldn't be out of place. My family, we're used to things that others might think strange. You would never have to be alone again.

  
“Even your stone friends would be welcome,” he adds, tilting his head towards the three angels. “We could easily disguise them among us, and our wagons are strong enough to carry stone statues.”

  
“Really?” Castiel whispers, studying Dean's pretty eyes for the truth. “You would really do that?”

  
Dean nods solemnly and there is no lie in his expression. “Yes, I would. But you have to decide quickly. My troupe can only hold off the man for so long, and then it will be too late.”

  
Castiel squeezes his eyes shut, trying to consider all of his options, but it's hard when he's so pressured. He could go with, but he would have to leave the relative safety of his bell tower. Frollo might forgive him- but he is honestly more likely to simply do away with him. Castiel was raised by the man. He knows how he thinks. Samandriel, Gadreel, and Balthazar could come with him, but do they want to? Do they want to leave? Is it even possible? He's never seen them leave before so he isn't sure. What if they can't get d-

  
“Frollo is coming!” Gadreel hisses suddenly. Samandriel whips around to look at the other angel.

  
“Are you sure?” he asks gravely, his stone features grinding into an expression of concern.

  
“I am sure,” the other angel growls, balling his cold fingers into fists. “I am absolutely sure. We have about thirty seconds.”

  
“Castiel,” Dean says urgently. “Cas, you must decide, now.”

  
“I-I-”

  
“He's here.” Gadreel slides closer to Balthazar, closer to the stairwell, and all three stone angels look prepared to go down fighting. “Get out while you can, Castiel. Take Dean with you.”

  
“I won't leave you!” he protests, but before anyone can answer back Frollo steps into the tower.

  
Castiel hears Dean cursing softly under his breath. A small part of his mind wants him to pause and remind Dean that they are in a church, that it is disrespectful to swear, but most of his mind is busy being paralyzed with fear.

  
“You're not getting him, you bastard!” Balthazar yells before charging at Frollo.

  
Frollo smiles coldly and holds his hand up. Balthazar stops in his tracks, a look of horror frozen on his face, his hands still outstretched towards the man. Everyone stares in shock for a bare second before Gadreel lets out a roar that shakes the bell tower and charges as well, his stone features twisting into a semblance of rage. Frollo flicks his wrist and Gadreel, too, slows to a stop, anger etched permanently on his face. Samandriel takes a single step forward before he freezes him as well, midway into his second step. Then, he advances on Castiel and Dean.

  
“You will pay for your transgressions, boy,” he hisses, and then something odd happens. He blinks with a slow deliberateness and a black film slides down to cover the whites of his eyes. Dean gasps beside Castiel and swears vehemently.

  
“What have you done with my family!” he demands, stepping forward, his hands in trembling fists by his sides.

  
“Oh, they'll be fine,” Frollo says dismissively, waving a casual hand. Castiel flinches, waiting for either him or Dean to freeze, but nothing happens except that Frollo snickers softly.

  
“Fine?” Dean hisses. “Fine?”

  
“For now. Until I'm done with this… abomination. Then I'm going to kill them.”

  
Dean grits his teeth, his eyes flashing angrily. “You won't get the chance, demone.” He steps forward and raises his hand, like a ward, before he begins to chant.  
“ _Deus, at pater domini nostri jesu christi_ -”

  
The words are very familiar to Castiel. It's an exorcism, one he's heard Frollo and the priests of the church chanting over people suspected of demonic possession for years. He's not sure why Dean would know an exorcism, but he's too distracted by Frollo choking on nothing to spend much time thinking about it. Dean continues the chant, and as he does Frollo glares venomously at him, coughing roughly and clutching at his throat.

  
“You cannot- kill me,” he hisses, and takes a step forward just to prove his point. “I am- I am stronger than your puny words! I am a greater demon, sent here to-” He stiffens, gagging, and thick, black smoke comes pouring out of the corners of his mouth, staining his thin lips for an instant before sliding down his body and gathering on the ground. Dean murmurs a few more words in Latin and Frollo collapses to his knees as the black ooze melts into the stones at his feet. The instant that the last of it disappears, he keels over, cracking his skull on the ground with a sharp _thwack!_ And Castiel knows- his master is dead.

  
“Cas?” Dean says softly, turning to look at him with a soft, hesitant expression, and Castiel realizes that Dean is afraid that he will be petrified with fear. He isn't, oddly enough. He feels like he probably should be, but he's just… not.

  
“My master...” he swallows hard and looks up at Dean. “Frollo. What- was he a.. a demon?”

  
Dean catches his lower lip between his teeth and Castiel finds himself momentarily distracted by the drag and pull of his perfect white teeth across the soft pink flesh of his lips.

  
“Yes,” Dean answers, taking a hesitant step towards Castiel. “He was. Probably has been for awhile. I just exorcised him.”

  
“I know,” the angel replies softly, closing the remaining distance between them and reaching out to brush his fingers against Dean's. “I've heard exorcisms before. I live in a church.”

  
Dean laughs suddenly and he grabs tightly onto Castiel's hand. “True,” he chuckles. “I suppose I forgot that.”

  
Castiel fights against a blush as he gazes down at their entwined hands, and he misses what Dean says next.

  
“Hm?”

  
“I said- well, your friends are frozen. That demon worked some kind of dark hoodoo on them. Luckily, I know a witch that can probably fix them. We can take them with us until I find her.”

  
“You still want me to come with you?” Castiel asks, surprised. He'd thought that Dean wouldn't want to be around him now, since Frollo- the demon- is gone.  
Dean smiles gently at him. Instead of answering with words, he leans forward and brushes his ever so slightly chapped lips against Castiel's. The contact only lasts for a few seconds, but it's more than long enough for Castiel to know that it wouldn't be hard for him to grow addicted to the taste of Dean of troupe Winchester.  
“We'd better go down and get ready to leave,” Dean murmurs. His face is close enough to Castiel's that he can feel his sweet breath blowing across his lips.  
“Oh,” he breathes, dazed. “Yes, of course. We should… yes. Let's do that.”

  
Dean laughs softly, and Castiel is sure that he could get addicted to that as well.

  
~.~.~.~.~.~.~

  
Castiel joins the Winchester troupe, and he fits right in. Dean's brother's fiancee, Gabriel, is overjoyed to have another angel to talk to and compare notes with. He is even more thrilled when they manage to confirm that Castiel is, in fact, his younger brother, stolen from their almost entirely angelic family when he was only a few hours old. Gabriel apologizes again and again for him having to go through all those years alone, but Castiel is more than happy to have a brother now.

  
Dean begins to teach Castiel how to dance as they criss-cross the country, putting on shows and fighting monsters. Because there aren't just demons in the world, there are also real life vampires and werewolves, and a hundred other kinds of creatures. The entire Winchester troupe functions not just as a gypsy troupe, but as group of hunters as well, banded together in their fight against evil. Dean's father, a man named John, leads the band with the help of Dean's uncle Bobby. Many other families and individuals are part of their group, including a (good) werewolf named Garth, along with his werewolf wife and twin werewolf sons.

  
Castiel is happy. True, they still haven't managed to locate Dean's witch friend to turn Samandriel, Gadreel, and Balthazar into their usual animated selves, but Dean is confident that she will turn up eventually. In the meantime, Castiel focuses on learning to dance and to hunt, both of which he is becoming quite good at.  
Six months after he begins to travel with the troupe, he perfects the scarf dance that Dean had performed at the Festival of Fools. He performs it for Dean in his tent that night. Dean tackles him the instant that he finishes, and neither of them make an appearance at dinner or breakfast. When they do finally show up during lunch, Castiel is blushing and grinning, holding Dean's hand. His feathers and hair are in disarray, and Gabriel gives him a high five as he passes by.

  
Life is good.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been squatting in my documents for a few years. Time to kick it out.


End file.
